Little Brother A Post Script To 'The Room'
by Whipper
Summary: Takes place after 'The Room'. In the story David suffers through a bad case of the flu and Nate gets to play big brother and take care of him. David angst, David/Nate friendship. Two or three 'bad words' and, of course, references to gay relationships.


Disclaimers apply. Obviously. 

**Little Brother**  
A Post Script To "The Room"

  
  
Through the door he could easily hear his brother retching.   
  
Jumping up to sit on top of the kitchen counter Nate wondered when exactly things between him and David had become so bad. According to David it had been the moment he had stepped out of the front door all those years ago with a bag over his shoulder and no intention of returning home. But, Nate thought sadly, he could remember calling home and talking to David for hours after he had left home. Not every often, though. Once a month. Maybe. Whenever he got homesick. Feeling slightly guilty he wondered how often David had missed him, his big brother, and not been able to talk to him.   
  
"_He was just fine,_" said a very familiar voice from behind him. "_Or at least he never complained about it._"   
  
"He wouldn't have, dad," Nate replied quietly without turning around. "He's just like mom. Only less bitter. I guess that will come with time."   
  
//When he realizes that it's all too late. That he's really wasted his entire life working with dead people. That he's never going to become a lawyer. That he-//   
  
"_Your mother wasn't always like that,_" the dead man pointed out. "_She used to be a very happy young woman._"   
  
"That she is no more," Nate said in his best Yoda imitation even though he was sure it was lost on his father. "And I'm sure David was happy once too. But right now, he most definitely isn't."   
  
"_He did, after all, just lose his father. Not to mention that he apparently has some kind of trouble with his boyfriend._"   
  
Nate turned around to look at his father with large eyes, his mouth forming a small 'oh'.   
  
"David told you he was gay?"   
  
"_All I ever spoke with your brother about was work._" The dead man paused. "_Jennifer told me though._"   
  
"But he is? Right? I mean... that black guy, Keith, and him... they are a couple, right?"   
  
"_What do you think, Nate?_"   
  
"I think there's a lot David haven't been telling either of us." Nate spoke with a serious look on his face. "I think he has too many secrets."   
  
"_Then make him share._"   
  
In less than the blink of an eye his father was standing right beside him and Nate almost flinched. But just almost. As strange, as insane, as it was he had become used to the ghost's sudden movements. With a wry smile he wondered if he had become jaded enough not to scream if his father were to take a walk through... let's say a wall.   
  
"_Really, Nate? Why would I want to do that?_"   
  
Turning his head to answer he realized that his father was gone. He returned his attention to the bathroom just in time to see David open the door. His brother was pale and appeared shaky. Unsteady. Very much so even, Nate added as the younger man reached out for the wall so not to fall down. With a muttered curse the tall blonde was on his feet and by his brother's side in just a few seconds.   
  
"You okay there, Dave," Nate asked in a quiet voice at the same time as he reached out to rest his hand against his brothers' forehead. He wasn't at all surprised when David jumped at the unexpected touch, for some reason the entire Fisher family had developed some kind of obsession with personal space and the non-invasion of it.   
  
"I'm fine." The answer seemed to come automatically. "You don't have to... do that."   
  
As he spoke David made a shaky, and totally unsuccessful, attempt to batt his older brother's hand away. Nate just frowned at him, feeling worried about both the heat radiating from his brother's brother and the apparent lack of strength.   
  
"Yeah, I can see that you're fine," he commented sarcastically. "I guess the fever and the throwing up are signs of just how fine you are."   
  
"Do you eavesdrop on me while I'm in the bathroom?"   
  
Nate almost lost it but tried to control himself as he was unsure wether he'd end up laughing until he peed on himself or just throw David through a window. And they couldn't really afford to replace a window. He settled for giving his brother his most sarcastic glare, pleased to see the younger man look away.   
  
"Come on," he finally said and grabbed his brother's arm to steady him. "Let's go."   
  
"Go where? And I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you very much. In fact, I've been able to do that for years now."   
  
"Do you want to fall on your stupid ass or what?" Then, realizing from the way that David tensed under his hands that anger wouldn't get him anywhere, he added with a softer voice; "If mom sees you like this she'll make you stay in bed for days and force you to eat creamed corn and broth and whatnot."   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
There was a long pause as David seemed to consider that. When he finally smiled softly and relaxed against his older brother, Nate felt like bursting into song.   
  
"I could live without that," the other man told him softly.   
  
"I thought you'd say that." He smiled broadly. "So... you think you're gonna be sick again?"   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Cause I'd like to take a few snapshots and sell to perverts who gets off on seeing people spewing their guts out," Nate quipped happily. As that didn't make David stop glaring at him suspiciously, he quickly continued; "I don't particularly want you to throw up in my car, that's all."   
  
"Then I suggest you bring a bucket," David told him dryly. "A big one."   
  
"I'll be right back," Nate repeated.   
  
As he hurried back to the kitchen, Nate could swear that he heard his father laughing behind him.   
  
***   
  
"Starve a fever, feed a cold? Or is it the other way around? Starve a cold, feed a fever? Only I'm not really sure if what you have is a cold, or a fever or... the plague so that doesn't help much."   
  
"Doesn't matter, cause food isn't really an option," David told him without opening his eyes.   
  
"You're right about that," Nate grimaced as he gave his brother a worried look. "The bucket can't take much more of that."   
  
The younger man laid sprawled out on the couch, a wet towel covering his eyes and a small bucket next to him. David had managed to undress with a little help and his jacket, a tie and a pair of shiny, black shoes were now carefully placed on a chair. In a few hours Nate hoped his brother would feel good enough to take a shower and change his clothes because the wrinkled shirt was stained and wet with perspiration and, truth to be told, David pretty much stunk.   
  
"Screw the bucket. I can't take anymore." A shaky hand removed the towel and bleary eyes peered out at him. "I bet you're wishing you left me at the house."   
  
"I'd be a liar if I said no," Nate admitted with a small grin.   
  
"Why didn't you?"   
  
"Taking you here seemed like a good idea at the time."   
  
David replaced the cloth over his eyes with a small sigh. Nate felt like sighing too, things hadn't turned out the way he had hoped them too. His brother was sick as a dog and feeling appropriately miserable. Not exactly the perfect conditions under which to have a serious "talking things through" event.   
  
"I'm sorry," David suddenly offered in a small voice.   
  
"What for? You gonna be sick again?"   
  
"No. Or at least not now."   
  
"Then what are you apologizing about?"   
  
"Being sick." Nate had to strain his ears to hear the next to words; "Being... an inconvenience."   
  
"Hey!" He quickly covered the distance between the two of them and took his brother's hand in his. "You're not being an inconvenience. I asked you to come here, remember? Granted, spending the entire night watching you throw up is not my idea of fun but you're my brother, Dave. I know I haven't been there for you before, but I'd like that to change."   
  
David tugged his hand lose with a violent movement and for a moment Nate thought his brother was going to hit him in the face but instead the sick man just grabbed the bucket and began heaving for the umpteenth time that night.   
  
"Not quite the reaction I was hoping for," Nate muttered to himself as he held his brother's shoulder to steady him. "But I guess it beats being hit in the face."   
  
"Damn you, Nate," came the garbled answer after a minute or two. "Stop apologizing."   
  
"I thought you wanted me to apologize? For abandoning you. Not being there for you. Making it impossible for you not to become a lawyer. For being an asshole and a lousy big brother."   
  
"You said it yourself," David told him as he sunk back into the couch, picking up the discarded towel to wipe his mouth on. "You're not my father. It wasn't your responsibility to take care of me. I get that, okay? And maybe... maybe I'm not mad at you. Maybe I'm just mad at dad and taking it out on you because you're alive. Or maybe I'm mad at myself."   
  
Instead of asking why exactly David would be mad at himself, Nate just got up and went to the kitchen. He returned after a few moments later with a cup of water for David to rinse his mouth with. His brother accepted the cup with a grateful look and quickly took a sip just to spit it out into the bucket after a couple seconds. Nate grimaced in sympathy as he picked the bucket up and left again, this time heading for the bathroom.   
  
"_Well, buddy boy, your timing sure leaves a lot to be desired,_" he was told as he emptied the bucket into the toilet.   
  
"I know," was Nate's terse reply.   
  
"_Although I guess him being too weak to walk will make sure that he doesn't run away,_" his father added with a small smile. "_I've noticed that he has a tendency to do that._"   
  
Remembering his earlier conversation with David, in his father's secret hide-away above the restaurant, where David had turned and left after yet another of their fights Nate couldn't do anything but nod in agreement.   
  
"_Ask him about his boyfriend,_" his father continued as Nate flushed the toilet and began to wash his hands.   
  
"Yeah, 'cause there's nothing like asking your brother for details about his secret, homosexual sex-life to make things better."   
  
His father just shrugged and vanished into thin air. Muttering a few well-chosen curses Nate grabbed a new towel, remembering what had happened to the last one, and wet it under the tap before returning to the living room. Not at all to his surprise David was still on the couch, looking even paler and sicker than before.   
  
"Should I call for a doctor?"   
  
"No." David sounded exhausted. "It's just... the flu or something. Tracy told me that there was some kind of 24 hour flu going around. I must have caught it while working in the park."   
  
"Who's Tracy?"   
  
"You do so not want to know."   
  
David shook his head, an annoyed expression on his face. Nate gently placed the wet cloth over his eyes, not wanting his brother to tax his energies anymore than necessary.   
  
"Okay," he said sitting down on the other end of the couch, lifting David's legs as he sat down and then placing them down on top of his thighs. "So... what do they say about the flu then? Lots of water and rest. Pain-killers? Although I don't think you'd keep that down."   
  
"How very perceptive of you."   
  
"Mom probably has a whole bunch of home remedies," Nate pointed out cheerfully, ignoring his brother's sarcastic comment. "Maybe I should call her?"   
  
"If I had any money I'd pay you not to."   
  
"I don't want your money," Nate leered, wiggling his eyebrows wildly even though he knew his brother couldn't see him.   
  
"Please, tell me you're not twirling an imaginary mustache, Nate?" The honest amusement in David's voice pleased him. He hadn't heard that in a long time. "Besides, I'm far from being a blushing virgin."   
  
"Ah... But maybe you have someone you could offer in your place?"   
  
"Well," David played along, a small smile gracing his thin lips, "I have a sister of course. Not a virgin, unfortunately, but, hopefully, a lot less experienced than me."   
  
"And just how experienced are you, mr. Fisher?"   
  
Nate poked his brother's leg a little with his index finger, remembering very well how ticklish the younger man was.   
  
"Don't make me laugh," David warned. "My stomach muscles are really aching and if I move too much I'll throw up again."   
  
"Somebody's trying to change the subject," Nate sing-songed, not willing to let the opportunity to ask David about Keith go without a fight.   
  
"Have I told you lately how annoying you are?"   
  
"Oh, yes, sir, I believe you have. Now, now.. c'mon, answer my question. Just how experienced is my little brother?"   
  
"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," came the answer.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Nate asked;   
  
"Is Keith also a gentleman? Or would he tell me everything about you should I happen to ask him the same question?"   
  
There was a long, strained silence and Nate was relieved, but also slightly disappointed, about not being able to see David's eyes.   
  
"Keith and I are just friends," David finally told him quietly.   
  
"So you deny being gay?"   
  
The question was out before Nate got a chance to think it through. He made a small face, deciding to live by the "think first, act later" principle for the rest of his life. Assuming, of course, that David wouldn't kill him for asking so personal questions.   
  
"I don't want to talk about this."   
  
"I do."   
  
"You don't have any right to demand answers for me," he was told in a quiet but angry voice. "You forfeited that right ten years ago."   
  
"I thought you said you weren't mad at me for leaving."   
  
"I lied."   
  
Nate's voice was so soft it could hardly be heard when he asked his next question;   
  
"Why are you crying, David?"   
  
"I'm not crying."   
  
Leaning over his brother's still form Nate removed the cloth from David's face. A ghastly pale face and huge, sad eyes was what met him. The stray tears that Nate had seen falling down his cheeks were making the pillow behind his brother's head wet. All in all it was a pitiful sight and Nate felt like an asshole for making David hurt like that.   
  
"I'm sorry, Dave. I didn't mean to-"   
  
"I don't want you to feel sorry for me," David snapped. "I want you to... go away."   
  
"Can't do that, buddy," he mumbled as he reached out to dry away the tears with the sleeves of his shirt. "I made that mistake once and I'm not about to do it again."   
  
"Yes, you will," David told him quietly. "You'll stay here for a few months, maybe even a couple of years. But then you'll realize that this wasn't really what you wanted to do with your life and you'll leave. You're... fickle. It's in your nature to leave."   
  
Shocked, Nate sat back into the couch. Was that really what David thought about him? _It's not like you've given him any reason to believe otherwise_, a voice inside his head told him calmly. It sounded so much like his father that he couldn't help looking around, searching the room for him. But, as far as he could tell, him and David was alone.   
  
He glanced at his brother and it hurt to see that the tears, despite David's obvious attempts to stop them, were still falling. He was crying so silently and Nate wondered where and how and why his brother had learned to cry without making a sound. He remembered another fight they had, at their dad's funeral. It hit him that, just like their mother then, David was probably in need of some serious loud, selfish, Sicilian-mourning. Although over what Nate didn't have a clue.   
  
"Why are you crying," he asked again.   
  
"I'm sorry," David whispered, rubbing one balled up hand over his eyes. For a moment he looked just like he had as a kid, hair all tussled and a childish kind of innocence on his face. "I can't stop."   
  
"Are you crying because I found out?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
"But you do admit that you're gay."   
  
Nate was already sure of course, but he needed his brother to tell him.   
  
"Yes. I'm gay."   
  
"As in 100% homosexual, only attracted to men gay? Or as in bisexual?"   
  
"The first."   
  
David's calm voice was in contrast with the tears that kept pouring from his half-shut eyes.   
  
"What about Jennifer? Was she like... your beard? Or didn't you know that you were gay at that time?"   
  
"I've always known what I was," came the quiet reply. "A cock-sucking faggot. Jennifer was... just an attempt to be normal, I guess."   
  
"Don't say that!" Nate felt like shaking his brother as he heard the ugly words coming out from his mouth. "Don't fucking say that about yourself, Dave."   
  
Taking a deep breath to calm himself he continued;   
  
"Did she know that you were gay? Jennifer, I mean."   
  
"She does now. I've apologized to her, of course. Not that that helps much."   
  
"So... why didn't you ever tell me?" Nate couldn't but feel a bit hurt. "Wasn't I important enough?"   
  
"I haven't really told that many people."   
  
Nate recognized that David had avoided the question but he didn't have the heart to ask again.   
  
"Who knows then?"   
  
"You." He smiled wryly. "Claire."   
  
"Claire knows? You told her but you didn't tell me?"   
  
"I didn't tell her," David defended himself. "She pretty much figured it out and when she asked Keith he didn't deny it."   
  
"So there is something between you and Keith?"   
  
"Was. Past tense."   
  
"Since when? You seemed pretty tight just a couple of days ago."   
  
"We... we broke up just after we met you and Brenda."   
  
Nate in silence for a couple of minutes as he took in his brother's words. They had seemed just fine. Happy. In love. Maybe that was why he had accepted that his brother was homosexual so easily. Well, there had been the initial shock of course. But he and Brenda had spoken and he had realized that it didn't really matter who his brother was with as long as David was happy.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I don't know." There was a long pause before David continued; "I really don't want to talk about this anymore, Nate. Please."   
  
"Yeah, yeah... sure. Just... I just-"   
  
Unsure of what else to do or say he just crawled up to his brother, squeezing in between him and the back of the couch. Holding his surprisingly still little brother close to his chest, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against David's.   
  


THE END


End file.
